


Lucid Love

by laeb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-War, Written Pre-Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-26
Updated: 2006-03-26
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16049099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laeb/pseuds/laeb
Summary: Snape’s peace and quiet were stolen from him when Potter came back to teach at Hogwarts.





	Lucid Love

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: is cherished when given freely and truthfully.  
> Beta: Huge thanks to both rotschopf and nimerha for their invaluable help. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

There were days Snape wondered what he was still doing at Hogwarts. Not that he whinged over the fact he had been rehabilitated in the Wizarding World after the mess that was Spring 1996 and the year that followed; in fact he would be—if silently—forever grateful for the redemption he had been offered by both Minerva and, from beyond the grave, Albus.  
  
The Pensieve the Albus had left behind and Minerva’s public recognition of the information he’d provided the Light to help destroy all remaining Horcruxes while being at Voldemort’s side were all it took for him to regain his freedom in the end. Not that he went far with his freedom. There were still Death Eaters at large, and Hogwarts had been the only home he’d ever had; so he decided to stay at the school and take back his position as Potions professor. And so, he stayed.  
  
Years went by, children came and went, and Harry Potter was hired as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor once he had completed his master. And Snape’s peace of mind was, once more, disturbed.  
  
The boy had finally grown up into a man. Not a particularly handsome or ugly man, but the green eyes were still hiding behind the round spectacles and the black hair was just as unruly as it had ever been. He had grown out of looking like his father, and maybe that was why Snape couldn’t hate him anymore. And he didn’t feel entirely indifferent about the man’s opinion either; not that he would ever acknowledge it to anyone, especially to Potter himself.  
  
Snape had developed a self-consciousness that was now leaving him uneasy. Why should he bother with what Potter might think of him? Why start to care now? Maybe Merlin would have known, but Snape’s mind didn’t and wouldn’t listen to him.  
  
Just this morning, Potter had been in the professors’ lounge, chatting with Longbottom, Parkinson and Zabini while Snape was marking some papers, invisible in a corner—hidden by the tall stuffed chair he was sitting in—when comments made their way to his ears.  
  
‘—can’t see him go anywhere else now, can we? It’s just our luck the Wizarding World wouldn’t want anything to do with him. I mean, look at him! The war is over, he was cleared of all charges against him and the students aren’t scared of him anymore. In our days he was the bane of our existence, he had power, and now…well. No one cares, you know? He’ll just die here, forgotten by everyone. Nobody cares.’  
  
Snape identified the noises that followed as an assent of sort and felt a pinch in his heart. So that was it, right? Were he to look after Potter till the end of the man’s days that Snape would still be nothing. Why did he care anyway? Wasn’t this what he had been aiming for during all those years? To be left alone, ignored or loathed by those surrounding him? A small voice in his head was implying the opposite.  _You know this is not what you had been hoping for when Potter returned to Hogwarts. Why else would you have been tolerant of his presence and even helpful occasionally? Why else would you care what he thinks of you? Why Snape, why?_  
  
He shook his head. He should have known better of course, but the end of the War had seen him developing, well,  _feelings_. With a deep breath, Snape went back to his marking. Such were the ways of the world— _of Harry Potter, more like_ —and he would learn to live with them; just as he had before.  
  
***  
  
It had taken him some time to get over the conversation he had heard; time he had spent quietly, as he did most things nowadays. He did not raise his voice in class—he wouldn’t snipe or snap, but merely answer when somebody would ask him a question. Minerva had been worried at this ‘new’ him, but after he had reassured her, she left him to his peace, just as almost everyone else.  
  
He had never stopped looking out for Potter, even to this day. He looked at Potter with a calmness that belied an internal war, an intense distress caused by the animosity he used to feel for the boy and the  _affection_  he now felt for the man he had become—no matter what hurtful things would spring from Potter’s insolent mouth. Of course Snape deserved most of it—he had taught the boy well on this account. Potter’s words were always sure to hit their mark and hurt where it hurt the most—but that didn’t stop Snape from thinking that the gratuitous verbal bashing was slightly overdone. Surely, the grudge Potter held should have faded after this decade of peace in the Wizarding World.  
  
***  
  
Snape walked as fast as he could without making it seem as though he was running. Once he reached the dungeons, he felt himself slowing down slightly but didn’t stop until he’d entered his rooms. Taking deep, controlled breaths, he made his way to the small table that held his favoured spirits, poured two fingers of scotch and downed it before pouring himself another double shot.  
  
Why couldn’t he get rid of his old habits—namely listening to conversations he had not been participating in? He should have known better, especially since Potter had been part of said conversation. The words he used had hit their mark like none before.  _‘See how he seems to be pining away all the time? I mean, can you imagine it? Snape caring for someone or even just being considerate? Or someone loving him back?! That’s just ridiculous! It’s giving me cooties just thinking about it!’_  
  
Perhaps he had been too good, hiding his game for so long; perhaps indeed he still looked like the cold-hearted bastard he had been decades ago. But couldn’t people change? Sipping his drink, Snape wondered if Potter’s words might not be true. But if that was the case, why did the words hurt? Why did it feel as though the unconditional devotion he felt for Potter, Snape ensuring Potter’s well-being at all time, had been reduced to a ridiculous notion that was something to be ashamed of?  
  
Had Potter ever tried to actually talk to him, see the man he had become over the years? Snape had done all he could to be friendly with Potter, to make his interest in the man subtly disinterested so it wouldn’t be evident, to be there whenever he would need him, but what good did it do? Had Potter shown even just a modicum of respect for him? He shook his head and tried to get a hold of his feelings—he shelved his feelings back in that corner of his heart where he would tend to them later that evening in his solitude—before making his way to the Great Hall for dinner.  
  
He was quite certain Potter would never understand the depth of this  _love_ —he had come to term with it—Snape had for him. But most importantly, he knew it would never be returned, that Harry would never care, would never believe in his unconditional love.  
  
Walking into the Hall, he made his way to the only available seat at the table—next to Potter of course—and sat as unobtrusively as possible. He could only hope that, one day, Harry would at the very least look beneath the surface of this placid persona he wore over his real self.   
  
At the same moment, Potter turned his head around, noticed who sat beside him, looked at Snape with an air full of disdain and a sneer to his lips before returning to his conversation with Zabini without a word.  
  
Severus sighed.  _Oh, well_.  
  
~*~  _finis_  ~*~


End file.
